Advise and Consent by Allen Drury Page A

greatest democracy and are we glad of it. Now if you will follow me—”

    The Secretary of Agriculture, on his way out of the White House after seeing the President, met the Secretary of Defense on his way in. “Say,” he began, “what do you think of—” The Secretary of Defense held up a cautionary hand. “Not me, boy,” he said with a laugh. “I don’t know nothin’ ’bout nothin’.”

    When Brigham Anderson came past the press table shortly before ten, everybody was still there drinking coffee. Committees hadn’t started yet, the day was still young, the daily budget of gossip not yet exhausted. Nobody was in much of a hurry to get to work, and the appearance of the senior Senator from Utah just went to prove that work, as often happened, might come to you if you sat at the proper crossroads and waited for it. So everybody said, “Hi, Brig,” and invited him to sit down.
    “If I dare, at this august table,” Brigham Anderson said. “What’s the topic before the house this morning?”
    “As if you don’t know,” AP told him.
    “What?” he said innocently. “The nomination?”
    “Is there any other topic this morning, Senator?” the Times asked humorously.
    “It’s something, isn’t it?” Brig said. “We’re going to have a battle royal before we’re through with this one.”
    “What are you going to do, Senator?” the Baltimore Sun asked bluntly.
    “Yes, give us a lead for the afternoon papers,” UPI suggested. “Senator Anderson condemns Leffingwell nomination. Says it’s unpatriotic, un-American—”
    “Attitude believed influenced by earlier fight with nominee on Power Commission,” AP added.
    “Now, wait a minute,” Brigham Anderson said. “Curb these high-priced imaginations and slow down. Senator Anderson isn’t condemning anything, yet.”
    “But he will?” AP asked quickly.
    “Look,” Brig said, “stop trying to get me in dutch, will you? I’ve got to sit on that committee and judge the nomination. I’m not ready to say anything at all about it yet. There are many aspects of it that I want to explore before I’ll be ready to sound off on it.”
    “Can we quote you on that much?” asked the Times ; Brigham Anderson hesitated.
    “I guess so,” he said slowly; “make it ‘many aspects I want to explore before I am ready to take a position on it,’ though. ‘Sound off’ is much too informal for a Senator, you know.”
    “And you’re such a formal Senator,” the Times noted with a smile.
    “Hush,” said Brigham Anderson. “Don’t tell people. I’m always afraid they’re going to bounce me out of the club any day for being so casual about it all. Why, I even fraternize with newspapermen, and you know what that does to a fellow’s character and standing in the community .... Actually, I’m much more interested right now in what kind of roses to plant this spring than I am in Bob Leffingwell.”
    “Assuming we can accept that persiflage at face value,” AP said, “what kind of roses are you going to plant?”
    “That’s what I want you to tell me,” Senator Anderson said. “I have room for about five alongside the house, and I can’t decide what they should be. All white; all red; white, red, and yellow, red, white, and blue—you can see what a problem it is .... But I’ve got to run. You let me know if you decide what I should do, will you?”
    “You let us know when you decide what to do about Bob Leffingwell,” the Times told him. The Senator flashed his engaging, boyish, grin as he started toward the door, then came back and leaned confidentially over the table.
    “As a matter of fact,” he said in a half whisper, “I’m damned if I know,” and left on their laughter.
    “He’s certainly a hell of a nice guy,” UPI observed.
    “Yes,” AP agreed, “and he’s going to play a hell of a big part in this one, too.”
    “Maybe,” said the Times in a remark he was to remember and ponder over many times later, “a lot bigger